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For a few minutes, Edwin really thought his uncle might pull it off. When the skirmishers at the river broke and ran, and when the Keelshire men kept falling back again and again, Edwin thought to himself, “This is it. We’re finally going to win.”
Stanley Barras, sitting on his horse next to Edwin, echoed the sentiment. “There’s no way the Gramirens can stop us now,” he said. “Oh, I wish we weren’t back here with the reserve. This is all going to be over before mid-morning!”
Caedmon disagreed, though. From the moment the Earl of Hyrne gave the order for the hillichmagnar to stay with the reserves, Caedmon was in a foul mood. Even fouler than usual, in fact. As he watched the Sigor and Byrne troops march up the hill toward Almoner’s Woods, Caedmon kept muttering under his breath. Was it a spell, perhaps, or just invective?
Then the Severn troops came out of the woods and attacked the left flank. And the Gramirens under the usurper attacked the right. All Edwin could do was sit there and watch it happen, with a cold, watery feeling in his guts, and a numb, weirdly detached feeling in his mind. It was hard to take it all in. It looked as if the earth had opened up and swallowed the army. It didn’t seem possible.
The enemy troops tore through the Sigor army from both sides. Edwin watched as Andras’s flag went down. For a few seconds, in the midst of the chaos, a group of knights appeared to rally to the Earl of Hyrne’s banner. They pushed on and on, smashing through the Gramiren lines. But then they slowed, and faltered, and dissolved away like ice in the sun. They were overwhelmed, and the earl’s banner fell under the surging enemy.
“We have to do something!” cried Stanley Barras. “We need to charge.”
“No.” His father, the Duke of Pinshire, rode up to join them. “No. We need to make ready to defend ourselves.” He turned to his captains and started snapping orders for the deployment of the archers.
“But look,” said Stanley. “Look, some of them are trying to retreat. We have to help them.”
Edwin looked where Stanley was pointing, and he saw groups of Sigor and Byrne men falling back in good order to the river. But whenever they tried to cross, they were shot down by Gramiren archers.
“I believe I may be of some assistance here,” said Caedmon, spurring his horse.
Edwin hesitated for a second, and then followed the sorcerer down the hill. All he had was a sword and his bow, but he could at least protect Caedmon if it came to it. He had seen Caedmon grow weak and collapse when he used too much magy. If Edwin couldn’t save his army, he could at least save his hillichmagnar.
Balls of yellow flame dropped from the sky, blowing the Gramiren archers to bits. The Gramiren troops who saw the spells pulled back, unwilling to risk fiery death. For a few seconds, Edwin had hope again. He wondered if Caedmon could keep blasting the enemy until they left the field, entirely. But that was a fool’s hope. After half a dozen fireballs, Caedmon was sagging visibly in the saddle. A hundred or so Sigor men had made it across the river under his protection, but that was all.
The hillichmagnar turned and, for the first time, noticed Edwin. “What are you doing here, your majesty?” he said, panting. “You must be kept safe.”
“I figured the safest place on the battlefield was near you,” said Edwin, venturing a smile.
Caedmon’s thick eyebrows went up. “I cannot fault your logic.” He looked around at the bloody melee across the river and shook his head. “I fear we have done all we can. Let us retreat now.”
With the survivors who had crossed the river, they made their way back up the slope to where Stanley and his father were waiting with the reserves.
Edwin had a few quiet minutes to reflect on what he had witnessed. His uncle—the man who had been like a father to him and Elwyn—was probably dead. Edwin couldn’t begin to comprehend the loss. He had known the earl wasn’t a very good general. And sometimes he wondered if the earl was even a very good person. The earl had kept trying to force Elwyn to marry Andras, even long after he knew they didn’t want to marry.
And, oh Earstien, Andras was probably dead, too! Edwin had often wished for a brother, because as much as he loved Elwyn and his little sister, Alice, having sisters wasn’t the same. He had never quite accepted that Andras wasn’t really going to marry Elwyn, because he wanted Andras to be part of the family. But now he was gone, and all those plans had come to nothing in the end.
He wondered how Elwyn would take the news. She was waiting a few minutes away in the convent. Would she be happy that she would never have to marry Andras now? Or would she be sad he was gone? If nothing else, she would think of poor Alfred Estnor, dead at Leornian four years ago, and the last thing Elwyn needed was for that old, aching wound to be opened again.
Would she be sad for Princess Donella, who was quite a nice person, really? Poor Donella—how awful for her to not only lose the man she loved, but to lose him in battle against her own father and uncle!
Then there were shouts and a trumpet call, and Edwin had to focus on the world around him again. Several regiments of Severnshire pikemen had crossed the river and were marching up to the Sigor lines. The Duke of Pinshire ordered the archers to loose a volley, and then another one, and then another. After a fourth volley, he let his cavalry charge, and they swept the surviving enemy back to the river. A cheer went up through the ranks of the reserve troops. But Edwin could already see more men crossing the river and lining up in the slim line of shade under the willow trees there.
“We should attack,” said Stanley. “We can push them over the river.”
His father, the duke, appeared to ponder this for a second, but Caedmon said, “No. This is the same trap all over again. It shows the pretender’s contempt for us that he would use it twice in the same battle.” He frowned at the duke. “Look to your flanks, your grace.”
Sure enough, the duke only had just enough time to shift his archers before scouts came galloping back to say there were Gramiren cavalrymen across the river now, both north and south of the reserves. And Odelandic infantry were marching through the streets of Basington at that very moment.
“Blast it all,” said Stanley. “We’re about to be surrounded!”
“Control yourself, son,” said the duke. With a weary, resigned look, he turned to Caedmon. “I think you had better get the king and Princess Elwyn out of here. Stanley and I shall command your rearguard. Make for Pinburg, if you can. Oh, and if you would be so good, take my daughter Meredith with you, too.”
Caedmon shook the duke’s hand. Then he said to Edwin, “Let us go now, while we still can.”
Part of Edwin wanted to fight on—to make one grand, glorious charge at the enemy, the way his uncle had. But his uncle was probably dead now. That was what came of grand gestures like that.
“No, I have to go,” thought Edwin. People might think him a coward, but that was a problem for another day. If he didn’t get off this battlefield alive and uncaptured, there wouldn’t be a Sigor dynasty anymore.
He nodded, and after shaking the hands of the duke and Stanley, he galloped off with Caedmon for the convent.
Wounded men were already crowding the gateway and the front cloister and the gardens. And these were only the men who had been able to get away from the bloodbath across the river. There would be ten times this number soon. Edwin wished he could do something, but he knew he had to get away now.
At the stables, Elwyn was packed and ready to go. As were Lady Rada and Sir Walter. Meredith was kneading her hands and pacing up and down, demanding to know where her twin brother and father were.
“They will be following us, my lady,” said Caedmon.
Morwen Byrne was there, too, her face drawn and pale. “Lord Aldred, I’m sorry to ask, but is there any news of my family?”
Caedmon bowed. “I wish I had news, Sister Morwen. I do not know where your parents and your brothers are. I saw Lord Andras’s standard fall, but he may still live. As to your parents, and your brother Lord Pedr, I regret that I know nothing at all. I am truly sorry I cannot tell you more.”
Blinking away her tears, Morwen hurried off to bark orders at some young novices. Edwin watched her go, and a strange and tragic thought occurred to him. Under the ancient Kenedalic laws of the Duchy of Keneburg, if Duchess Flora and Pedr were dead, Morwen was now the Duchess of Keneburg in her own right.
Caedmon held a quick inspection and made sure every member of the little party was armed with both a bow and a sword. Then they left the abbey grounds at a fast trot. Caedmon took the lead, with Elwyn behind him, her bow out and ready. She was an experienced huntress, and Edwin knew few people who could beat her in an archery match. Edwin followed behind with Meredith. Bringing up the rear were Lady Rada, with little Louis strapped to her back, and Sir Walter.
At the edge of the abbey grounds, they collected a company of Pinshire cavalry. Their officer knew Caedmon on sight, as everyone did, and he didn’t need to be told twice that it was time to retreat.
“Do you think Stanley and my father will be able to get away?” asked Meredith, looking nervously over her shoulder.
“I should think so,” said Edwin. “If anyone can, they will.”
That visibly cheered Meredith, but Edwin wasn’t so sure as he pretended. This day had been an utter disaster, and he had a bad feeling things would only get worse from here.